Rose, tint my world
by OzZ Cometh
Summary: The Titans' hospitality takes a sudden, terrible turn for the worst when they allow a traumatized young man to temporarily board with them, and discover where he came from, what has so terrified him, and the psychotic evil that has been brewing, right und
1. Running away

"Rose, tint my world"

A survival horror fanfiction by JackoMegane (AKA OzZ Cometh)

Your standard disclaimer applies. I don't own any characters, locales, or distinct personalities of the Titans, which I am about to attempt portraying. NOR do I own any of the creatures or specific events of Splatter House. What I came up with myself will be outlined at the end of this chapter, but regardless, the basic ownership claims belong to Cartoon Network and Namco, respectively, and this work is done in the greatest of humility and admiration.

Please don't sue me.

"In the long run we are all dead."

-John Maynard Keynes

Chapter one- "Running away"

June fourth, Titans island

Underneath the spotless sky of an uneventful Saturday afternoon, Titans island presided amongst the scenic brilliance of early summer. The sun that shinned brightly overhead cast a reflective iridescence off the landform's large, centrally located T-shaped building, and was only disrupted by an occasional "V" formation of birds that would stroll lazily by.

Having just come out of the glorious spring, many flowers were still in full bloom, exhibiting a spectacle of color across the mainland's shore and the trees stood tall with the conclusion of their many branches shrouded in vivid green.

And it was likely to hold this for the next two to three months, just as it did last summer, and just as it would do in the future, but just as this was uniform and presented the bearing of normalcy, there was one _other _reliable facet that lie in-tow.

One that the season's cheerful admirers could, by all means, do without.

"Dude!" Beastboy's voice projected across the living room. The changeling was nestled on the right of the room's three central couches, and with mouth agape, tried in vain to fan himself off with his hands.

"What're we up to now? One hundred, one hundred and fifty degrees? It's like the surface of the sun in here!"

"Your complaining isn't helping." Raven was quick to scold, and Robin soon thereafter added, "You're exaggerating, Beastboy." But almost as promptly cut himself off to rid his brow of another bead of sweat.

"…But not by much. Of all days for the AC to break down…"

No one was quite sure _when _the commercial-built air conditioner had taken its last fleeting breath of operation, but the boy wonder recalled a less than welcome memory of waking up around eight-ish, so doused in sweat that he could barely peel himself from the mattress.

"Man, I can't take it anymore!" Beastboy flailed his arms wildly for effect.

"When'd Cy say he'd be done with that thing, anyway?"

To this, Robin's usually reliable first-hand reply stalled. Scratching the back of his head, he muttered, "Not sure. He said he hasn't done much work with AC's…"

The frail answer would, in ultimate effect, gain Raven's attention, and after averting from her tome, she prompted, "He built a luxury _sports car _from scratch, but he can't figure out an air conditioner?"

Robin shook his head. "It isn't that easy, Raven. Getting cold air around in a car and getting it around in a building are completely different."

Satisfied with this, she returned to her book. Beastboy, however, was slow to follow suit.

"And that car has a theatre-quality sound system with double bass boost, jet propulsion and gets nearly forty miles to the gallon! The difference can't be bad enough to top _that_!"

Doing his best to keep the building aggravation from claiming his voice, Robin shot back, "Even if he knew air-conditioners like the back-side of his hand, trouble-shooting _alone _could take hours. You're just going to have to bite your lip and wait it out."

With a plaintive fold of his arms, Beastboy turned his head toward the window and shut his mouth.

…And it wasn't till the room fell completely silent did Starfire decide to make her entrance.

"Friends!" She begun in her usual cheerful voice while approaching.

"I have found the perfect remedy to an uncommonly sweltering day!" Her hand proceeded to gesture toward the window that her green-skinned team-mate just _happened_ to be gazing through.

"We could go outside!"

Rather than answer, Robin produced an exasperated sigh and turned toward the opposite window. He knew _precisely_ what was coming, and sure as he predicted the following event, it fell into place.

"OUTSIDE?" Beastboy was more than happy to resurrect his arguments. "Out there, in the _middle _of it? You're crazy!"

"But we would be directly neighboring the ocean!" a quick protest ensued, inviting him to escalate his resolve.

…And as he started in on his counter, Robin found himself desperately searching the massive body of water below for some sort of distraction.

To his inward surprise, he found it.

Two parallel sets of ripples streamed across the otherwise undisturbed aquatic surface. At their conclusion was a steadily drifting object; too small to be anything _commercial_. Due to his altitude, it was difficult to make out any details past that, but the indications were ample enough to suggest that _someone_ was in a raft or canoe, rowing manually towards Titans island.

…And going pretty damned fast, judging from the production of the ripples.

Trying to keep his attention from the _still _quarreling Beastboy and Starfire, Robin turned toward the second best opinion to seek.

"Hey, Raven, could you come here a second?"

The mystic did not verbally acknowledge, but locked eyes with Robin. Then, with a heavy sigh, closed the tome and rose to her feet.

"Something wrong?" She asked upon arriving.

Rather than speak, Robin nodded toward the small boat.

"Have you _ever_ seen anyone row a boat that fast?" He asked once she came to terms with what he was seeing.

"No. He's making good time."

"Would you say he's coming toward us?"

"Directly." Raven cast a serious glance toward him. "Think he has a reason?"

Robin's eyes narrowed behind his mask.

"I don't know." He replied, then turned around. "But I intend to find out…"

"KNOCK IT OFF, YOU TWO!" The voice of Beastboy and Starfire's leader bounced impressively off the walls, killing their argument with little difficulty. Silent and attentive, they both gazed toward him.

"I've made up my mind." He declared, "We're going outside."

Starfire's bright expression clashed sharply with the '_shot-down_' look Beastboy had adopted, but the tune was quick to change when there came a slightly less audible, "But it isn't for fun…"

Robin looked over his shoulder once more before starting for the elevators.

"Not by a long shot."

The descent toward the ground floor was quiet and featureless, but as the four titans filed out the lift door with Starfire assuming the lead, Raven intentionally fell back and whispered to Robin, "Why do you think someone would be in such a rush to get to our island?"

The boy wonder's brow creased slightly.

"Only one reason I can think of…" He murmured, "He's running from something."

Roughly two hundred yards off-shore from Titans Island

A high-pitched, perceptive whine arose from the sides of the small makeshift rowboat as its ores were brought up once more. During its entire escapade, it had not failed to produce this noise with each such movement, and it was not unlike the catastrophe that had come to rest within its occupant.

A perpetual siren that assailed the young man's mind every instance of every second, demanding, urging, _pleading_ that he return to nightmare from which he came.

No cessation, no white light at the end of the tunnel, no redemption day.

Like Hamlet, he found himself caught between moral obligation and personal desire; crushed underneath the struggle of that which he _should _do, and what he _wanted _to do.

Regardless of how tense it may have become, he chose the latter alternative, and the raw fear that remained, tormenting the vaults of his memory, held him more than loyal to it.

No therapy, no potential of ever recovering, no content future.

A pair of built, sun-scorched arms proceeded to force forward, causing the ores to fall back, ultimately propelling the entire vessel backward with considerable velocity.

A strained groan dispersed from his lips as his fried skin struggled to accommodate the moving muscles that it sheltered. But that was little compared to what was slowly disestablishing him on the inside.

Physically, he could do it. There was no one else, it seemed, that could brave those horrors.

No one else could salvage the life he left behind.

He was the only one capable of returning with the prospect of emerging victorious.

But mentally, he was disappointed with himself. So quick to break down at the sight of the occult.

His was a mind so simple in its functionality that it simply couldn't handle the brutal reality that there was _no _God.

Once this thought was birthed, he toiled effortlessly upon the ores, catapulting the raft in reverse with an outstanding momentum. His arms worked with twice the driving force behind the curtains, drawing him closer and closer till the raft shook with a violent collision.

The young man, in accordance, was rocked forward and promptly thereafter seized by two separate sets of hands on each arm. Although their touch stung his sun-burnt flesh, he offered no resistance, knowing good and well that they were only trying to help. Wise to that much, he went limp and attempted to catch his breath as they hefted him from the small, un-seaworthy vessel.

"_Dude_!" Beastboy groaned as he struggled to pull the stranger back.

"Who is this guy, a teenage Hercules?"

Robin offered no gratification, but strained to exert more force. Just as the heft seemed about ready to snap his arms, the young man slumped over the edge of the raft and hit the bright, hot sand of a narrow shoreline.

After slowly rolling over onto his back, he lay perfectly still and proceeded to take in large bouts of breath.

With the moment caught in a mild gauge of peace, the four Titans gathered around to study their new visitor.

What they saw was a teenage boy, roughly seventeen, whom was built and defined to a near unbelievable extent. A six pack dominated the abdomen, pectorals bulged, and his arms, seemingly the largest, most distinct feature, looked as though they hadn't seen a day outside of the weight-room.

A crop of wavy chestnut hair was not allowed more than three inches upon the top to exhibit its texture, and was sheered into a fade on the sides and back.

All four started abruptly when his eyelids flipped open, exposing two separately colored irises; one that shone an ice-cold blue, and the other a dull, unreflective brown.

Even following this, he failed to move. Or for that matter, acknowledge any existence but his own.

That factored in, a brief instance of silence ensued.

Robin was first to reproach, directly leaning over to face him. It was difficult to keep a calm posterior; those eyes…

"Are you alright?"

The young man's eyes darted from left to right. After closing them, he answered, "No."

"Can you walk?"

He replied with a frail nod of his head and was greeted by a gloved hand, offering help to his feet.

After a few more breaths, he accepted and was lifted into an upright position.

"You're pretty burnt, but you look okay…what happened?"

The boy rapidly shook his head.

"Something terrible. You can't know, you'll hurt. You'll…"

He trailed, his eyes going distant.

"Mothsera…" His next word just barely prevailed a whisper, and seemed more directed to himself than anyone else. Raven, however, gasped in recognition.

"Where did you hear that?" The empath promptly advanced upon him with questions of her own. But the only outcome was another shake of his head.

"No." He intoned with little reluctance, "You can't…"

"I already _do_, now where have you heard that name?" Arose a stout, insistent argument.

His eyes fixed onto her, but unlike Robin, she did not allow her resolve to falter.

"…You know it?"

Without missing a beat, she replied, "Volume three, section seventeen, The resurrection conflict. Mothsera, Barron of worms."

"You _do_!"

Rather than acknowledge, she persisted to ask, "What has he done?"

The young man's jaw begun to quiver as he took this in. In an unsteady voice, he answered, "He took them from me…they're dead, now. I was the only one…I was the only one that got away."

To this, Raven only nodded.

Whilst their exchange progressed, Beastboy soon found distraction in the form of a burlap satchel, placed toward the end of the raft. Without having to go to great lengths, he arrived to it, and grabbed onto a carrying strap, but was given no time to backtrack before being noted by the _least_ savory present.

"Don't touch that!" The young man broke his confrontation with Raven to bolt to the raft and reclaim his bag. Shocked dormant, Beastboy allowed it to be jerked from his hands.

The boy clutched it to his chest thereafter, and muttered in a slightly apologetic tone, "You can't see…nothing…nothing _good _is in here…"

And proceeded to trail off once more, making it safe to deem that something had shaken him.

_Terribly_.

Being first to write it off as a simple mound of stress, Starfire approached.

"You require rest, friend." She placed a hand on each shoulder, but quickly aborted when he flinched.

"…and something to ail your burns."

The boy held nary a reaction, even when his invitation was led away by her arm to the other Titans, whom had gathered in a small huddle.

"Star, are you sure that's a good idea? I mean, there's _obviously _something wrong with this guy!" Beastboy raised a logical concern, his eyes sneaking another glance in the mystery guest's direction.

"There is _nothing_ wrong with him, he is scared!" The Tamaranean declared solemnly. "We are protectors of the city, it is our job to help those in need, is it not?"

Robin shook his head, slightly buried under the entire ordeal. "You have a point, Star, but Beastboy's onto something, too…there's more than just fear going through this guy's mind…" He followed Beastboy's gaze to the boy.

"Don't get me wrong, he doesn't look _dangerous_, but…"

"He stays with us." Raven had remained silent and stand-offish till then, but her sudden declaration caused every other mouth to shut.

"Starfire's right. He's not crazy, just scared…and he has every reason to be. He's had an encounter with something _terrible_…"

There arose no opposition, but Robin soon asked in genuine interest, "What, exactly?"

"I'll explain everything I know later, but for now we have to get him inside…He looks like he's missed some sleep."

Without much hesitation, the boy wonder nodded his head. In this instance he knew it was best to be fair, reasonable, and logical.

"Alright. If you think it's in his best interest, I'll take your word for it."

Through the brief decision-making process, the young man kept his eyes fixed on the ground, or averted to his bag, and remained so focused on this that he failed to notice when Starfire came toward him anew.

"Friend!" She greeted, causing him to lift his head. "We have decided that it would be best for you to board with us, until you are feeling better. You agree, yes?"

He stalled before answering, "I have no place left to live. This bag…" He hefted the satchel into a more clear filed of vision, "is all that's left of it…left of _me_…are you sure you wanna'?…I don't deserve friends…" Shame filmed over his eyes, and his face proceeded to fall back to the vicinity of his feet, but Starfire only nodded her head pleasantly. It was at this instant that Robin joined.

"_All that's left of it…_" He repeated, "That means you used to have a home…Wouldn't you just want us to take you back there and maybe try to…"

"No!" He shook his head more than what could be deemed necessary. "I can't go back there, now…" and his brow proceeded to crease, "…or _ever_."

The boy wonder struggled to produce a serviceable response, but in the end could only manage a frail, "…Right."

The most immediate discovery that settled upon entering Titans tower was that of the air conditioners being restored to their normal operation. Vents recessed upon the ceiling of the establishment's main hall assailed the first to enter with a powerful jet-blast of cold air. Where Beastboy assumed the lead and Raven brought up the rear, their new guest walked amongst them off to the side, and would not raise his eyes from the floor for _anything_. Peculiar, as those who entered the building for their first time _raved _over its unique design, but not entirely surprising.

By this point, it had become apparent that this young man wasn't just shaken- -He was traumatized, and fittingly enough, turned a blind-eye to much of the world.

"Man, feel that cold air!" Beastboy chimed as he led the group toward the lifts, where Cyborg would most likely be found.

"Cy's a real whiz with the electronics, like a genius, or something!"

"…Yet, less than a half-hour ago, he was too stupid to figure out an air conditioner." Raven's sarcasm-laden voice rung from the back of the line, causing the changeling to scowl, but he offered no return-fire.

Given the circumstances, it simply wouldn't have been Raven to resist…

Cyborg, sure as it was secure to assume, was found on the tower's topmost floor in the dining area.

Perched upon a stool, the hybrid clutched an unmarked bottle in one hand, and sported a white towel around his shoulders. Although he noted the entrance of his friends, he did not acknowledge.

"Hey, Cyborg." Robin was first to greet. "Looks like you got the air conditioner back to work. Good job."

A smug grin promptly spread across Cyborg's face. "First time ever working on a full-scale A.C system, and she's workin' good as new! BOO Y…" The boisterous self-appraisal died upon his tongue as he caught sight of the new guest.

In a less perceptive, and slightly dumb-founded tone, he queried, "Ah…I miss something?"

"In a manner of speaking. This is…" Robin begun to answer, but trailed when he realized that the strange young man had never revealed his name. Feeling the slightest bit dumb, he turned his attention to the boy and asked, "Uh…what _was _your name, anyway?"

"Thomas. Hefty." His tone was beginning to drag, outwardly revealing his exhaustion.

"…Right. Cy, this is Thomas. I'll explain why he's here later, but right now we have to get something for this sun-burn…"

Left completely in the dark, Cyborg watched in silence as the perfect stranger was led away to the infirmary.

Close to forty-five minutes later, Thomas Hefty was stenching of Aloe Vera, slightly soaked from an ice-cold shower, and given a soda, but he _still_ had yet to open up to any of the Titans. Starfire, being the epiphany of hospitality that she was, demanded that he be allowed some time to sleep before being further questioned. This did not bother any of the _other _Titans so much; for they still had Raven to look for when it came to answers to some of their more desperate questions, however solace wasn't quickly found in _her, _either.

Before sitting down for a presumably long conversation, the sorceress flat-out _insisted _that she herself bathe; not an ethic she regularly adopted when there was work to be done.

Robin came to leisurely note, whilst he and the others waited for her to return to the dining room, that she had not entirely been acting herself since Thomas' arrival. Something about her frame of mind now seemed anxious, and unnerved, thus a slight feeling of dread begun to well up in his own head.

Anything that could panic Raven was _bound _to be bad.

"…So, what you're saying is this guy just _paddled _up to our island?" Cyborg repeated Beastboy, whom volunteered to break the whole thing down to him during the wait.

"Yup." Beastboy stretched back on the couch.

"And he didn't say if he came over from the mainland?"

"No, but from some of the stuff he _did _say, it didn't sound like he did. He made it seem like his entire home had been _destroyed_…last I checked, Jump was just fine."

The hybrid shook his head, a slightly lost look upon his face. "That _really _doesn't make any sense…" He murmured. "The nearest island from here is almost ten miles off-shore. How could he have managed that in a lil' row-boat?"

"Helllo? Did you get a chance to really _see _that guy?" Beastboy sprung from the couch, "He-man doesn't have _anything _on him! He's like a super-human!"

"He must have pushed himself quite hard to have reached that level of physical definition." Starfire remarked from the other side of the room.

"…Or he musta' been popping _alota' _pills…" Cyborg muttered in a far lower tone.

"No, he didn't get any help getting that build. I'm almost sure of it." Raven's voice arose from the far corner of the kitchen, causing everyone's head to turn in its direction.

Inexplicably, she had emerged from the corridor and strolled through the living room without being noticed by _anyone_. At a slow pace, she seized a kettle from an over-head rack recessed in the ceiling and proceeded to fill it with water.

"Mothsera's presence was probably motivation enough."

Despite the remark sounding leisurely, it caused Robin to lean inward in anticipation of her next words.

Raven, however, said nothing while lowering the kettle onto the stovetop.

Although he was prepared to let her speak at her own pace, a still lost Cyborg quickly grew aggravated.

"Well, I'm not sure what else to take a stab at when I don't know what the heck you're _talking about_!"

He fumed, "So if you don't mind letting me in on the _big secret_, who or _what _is 'Mothsera'?"

Raven did not look toward him, but answered, "He's something I learned about in one of those tomes I read. It's difficult to explain…"

Discarding the kettle to its spot on the stove, the mystic turned and ventured into the living room.

"…But I'll try my best."

Sliding into the middle of the room's center-most couch, Raven crossed her legs, folded her arms, and begun, "I go through a lot of those tomes. They don't teach me about my powers so much as they touch base on the history of creation, and the parts that good and evil have played in it. Anything that has to do with _this _particular planet is categorized as a 'volume'…like encyclopedias…"

"Why?" Beastboy was first to raise a question, not even halfway through her lecture. "Why is this planet so different from every _other _planet?"

Raven locked eyes with him solemnly. "Because _this _is the only planet that created its own evil."

A sigh dispersed from her lips as she begun to realize how hard the story was to describe.

"For a long time the Underworld…my _father,_ was the only presence of evil, and there was a balance between the two forces, but when the Human race was born, things begun to change…"

"I always hear things like that." Robin remarked in a tone of voice that barely surpassed a whisper.

Despite this, it caught everyone's attention.

"Anything I've ever run into that _wasn't _Human has always told me that we're nothing but selfish, ignorant upstarts. Cattle, I remember a few of them calling us…"

"Don't believe everything you hear. You're capable of more than you're told. This was the only race in the history of creation to make the firstborne truly feel _threatened_…"

Again, she sighed, and momentarily cradled her head in her hands, fighting a losing battle to keep her emotions in check. It was this that caused the other Titans to cue into her evident stress.

…And possibly her fear.

Starfire took a seat beside the mystic and drew an arm about her shoulders whilst Robin placed a hand on both of her own.

Raven did not show reaction to the sudden emotional support, but failed to turn it away, thus it remained.

"I always thought it was ironic…" She muttered weakly, "how I do _all _of this reading to gain more knowledge…and once I do, I…wish I could just forget."

After taking in an unsteady breath, she picked up, "The story's _never _been well remembered, but what scraps still exist tell the tale of a man that lived in the Greco-Roman era. His name was never documented, but he was later referred to by scholars and mystics as 'Mothsera', which is a native Infernal term. There's no _real _English word for it; the closest translation I can think of is…" Her breath caught in her throat, causing Starfire to draw her closer, "_Freak_."

"And your da- -Trigon, was the one that thought that up, right?" Cyborg figured.

She gave a feeble nod of her head and pressed on, "It's said that even from early childhood he was a physical perfectionist…driven by some sort of belief that it would grant him the power of a God. Whatever it was, it caused him to get this _insane_ devotion and by adulthood, there wasn't much left of him mentally. But his body was another story…"

"Sounds like our little friend in there…" Cyborg threw a wary glance toward the hall in which Thomas' room was found.

"The tome never could properly judge whether or not he had lost his mind, but if it was the power of a God he wanted, he might have gotten it, in the long run. Right when he was at his supposed prime, he contracted some sort of disease…there were so many illnesses and infections that were terminal at the time, no one really knows if what he caught was pneumonia, pox, or just a common cold, but in due time, he died from it."

For a brief duration, silence reigned in the once noisy living quarter of Titans tower. No one had noticed till that point how quickly time had passed- -the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, filtering an orange glow through the huge windows.

"…Well…" Beastboy cut the quiet tension, "That doesn't sound so bad."

And it came back into full swing just as quickly when Raven replied, "That isn't where it ends."

"It was time for his soul to leave his body, right?" Robin tried his own hand at taking a shot in the dark, and was found to be just as accurate as Cyborg.

Raven, however, only picked up where he left off, "He had worked too hard. His whole life was devoted to building himself physically, and when the threat of that being taken away arose…" She shook her head again, "His soul just point blank…_refused_. Even to this day, it can't be explained, but neither force ever interjected, so his corpse just _got up_ and started wrecking havoc."

"Like those zombies from 'Children shouldn't play with dead things'?"

Beastboy's vast knowledge of cheesy horror movies at long last found its home in one of Raven's conversation pieces. The mystic shuddered at hearing the word 'zombie'.

"Yes." She answered, "_Exactly _like one of those zombies. The lapse of judgement from the firstborn would come to be called the 'resurrection conflict', and it wasn't until he killed a significant number of people did my father realize _their _souls weren't leaving, either. In that state, they were forced to do Mothsera's bidding, but he didn't get very far before his actions were figured out. Afraid he might be capable of putting a premature end to Humanity, Trigon imprisoned Mothsera to a separate plane, never to return to the mortal realm…but what he couldn't do was put an end to his victims…"

"So they continue to exist?" Starfire prompted further.

"With no one to guide them, they just wandered aimlessly. Most of them wound up attacking other people, and were killed, or…they killed the people. And should _that _have happened, Mothsera would gain more power..."

"This makes no _sense_!" Cyborg bolted from his space on the couch and started toward one of the windows. In light, it was making _perfect _sense to the hybrid, and thus the inevitable panic was beginning to assail his own mind.

"Re-animated corpses walking around devouring people, don't you think _we _would have heard something by now? Why the heck hasn't this been recorded here, on _earth_?"

Raven shook her head plaintively.  
"Their numbers have always been shallow, but existent. There are accounts all _over _the world of unexplained cannibalism. Cases where somebody was eaten in their own home, and nobody was ever apprehended. But there was something else…"

Her eyes locked onto the floor as she attempted to manage the last bit of knowledge.

"The tome I read this in warned that if Mothsera's victims weren't completely eradicated, they would one day give him enough strength to punch a hole into this world, and he would walk amongst us once more."

Raven's face rose to meet Cyborg's gaze.

"I think that day has come."

He could not bear to look at her, and averted his eyes to the window.

This was all too painfully real.

"If everything you're saying is right, something has to be done, and _fast_." Robin was the first to muse over a solution, "But something isn't adding up. You said your father couldn't stop this from happening…why is that?"

Raven suppressed a sigh, and wished for just once that the others would have asked what it was that she so constantly busied herself with beforehand.

"Powerful as Trigon might be, there's only so much tampering he can do with the mortal realm. Entering it and dealing with the victims, himself, would have caused other forces to oppose, but if the tome was right, he _did _create something in case this happened…an artifact that was said to be placed somewhere in the western hemisphere…"

"It never said what it _was_?" Beastboy drew himself inward as Raven's relay of first-hand knowledge neared its close.

"No." She shook her head, "All the tome said was whoever possessed it would be directly linked with Trigon, and granted a fraction of his power."

"_The book does not close through such conventional merit, Thomas. You know that as well as I._" A deep, distorted voice penetrated the burlap satchel. The room was closed off, but not locked up; its occupant secure with a closed door and little else.

"_Those that you abandoned are dead, they can never return, but their souls continue to exist, and under Mothsera's eye, they shall suffer in ways you could not begin to fathom._"

"Shut up!" Thomas hissed, grasping harshly onto his hair. "Just _shut up_, already! I'm nothing more than cattle, a frail, unperceptive mortal. There is _nothing _I can do."

"_I shall silence when you realize that which I have bestowed upon you. Don me, and return. The baron of worms must be destroyed, and until he is, you will not be allowed to simply 'forget' your cowardice." _

Now, he looked toward the bag, which he left crumpled upon the top of a nightstand.

"I loved them." He murmured. "They were the only people that advocated my existence. The only affection I would ever find, and now they're dead."

"_And it is the result of your desertion. Had you remained, your family may have lived. But you still have the opportunity to rectify your actions. And at the same time, perhaps rescue mankind from the chains of destruction._"

The boy approached his satchel, and reach inside. From it, he produced a dull gray, full-face mask. A quartet of narrow, crimson red eyes dominated the brow, and contended for attention with a pentagram etched into the forehead that, like a faulty fluorescent light, glowed dull red. The lines that comprised its jaw were sharp and angular, ending in a narrow chin that just barely saved space for a wide maw, filled with razor-sharp teeth.

There was no strap to keep the hellish artifact fastened; only a series of spines upon the sides intended to burrow painfully into the wearer's face.

"_You need me._" The voice cut the silence.

To this, Thomas could produce no reply. Only a fearful gaze.

Rain sparingly visited Jump city in the month of June, and on the rare occasion that it would, the most offered was a frail sprinkle.

So there was a genuine surprise shared by everyone when day begun to melt into night, and the moon's steady rise into the sky was accompanied by large, dense clouds. They grew with radical speed, and come nine-o clock, the sky's play of bright stars could not be seen past a canopy of empherial dark fluff.

In due time, thunder begun to rumble, promising far more than just a placid little shower and less than a half hour later, the first few droplets of a presumably nasty storm hit the windows of Titans tower.

Beastboy's vague reflection stared back at him in one such window, as he watched the weather's violent, sudden shift.

"Can you _believe _this?" He asked before gazing over his shoulder to Cyborg.

"It was picture-perfect earlier today, and in less than _two hours_, it looks like something from 'Storm of the century'!"

The bionic released a heavy sigh. Enough dire contemplation had been put on his plate as it stood, the _last _thing he wanted to do was openly converse about it, or anything else, for that matter.

"Nope." He vaguely answered, then added, "Then again, I've heard a lot of things I'm findin' pretty tough to believe today."

Indeed, a certain security was found in utter, bleak silence, but to do this, it would mean he was simply _ignoring _the fact that his world was on the brink of collapsing before him. Blissful as it may have been, turning a blind eye to the face of disaster was not in his best interest.

No, it wasn't in his best interest at _all_

His only human eye harbored one of the most distraught expressions it could present.

Beastboy and Cyborg shared a great deal in common with their goofiness and sense of humor, but the latter knew when it was time to get serious.

And when that inevitable moment came, he had the tendency to let it upset him, greatly.

The attitude he adopted as a result was pure hopelessness, disheartening enough to bring the entire group down.

Beastboy knew that look well. He hated it.

"So what, you don't believe what Rae's saying?" The words left his mouth before he could even stop himself, but he didn't falter when Cyborg gave him an incredulous, slightly insulted look.

"No, I didn't say _that_. " He retorted sharply, "C'mon, we might've gone up against _a lot _of things in the past, but can you really say any of that even comes _close _to this?"

The changeling thought briefly before shaking his head.

"Right." Cyborg grated. "And _that's _what's got me so shook up. Zombies, man…" He shook his head, _forced _to believe something he simply couldn't accept.

"It just blows my mind. And why haven't we _done _anything about it, like Robin said we should?"

This caught Beastboy off-guard. Robin had made it a pretty good point to announce to the rest of the Titans what the future plans would be, how could Cyborg _not _have heard it?

"You mean you didn't notice when he stood up in front of everyone and said what was going to happen?"

"How could I?" Was his prompt, grim reply.

"It's kinda tough to focus when one of the most straight-faced people I've ever known has just told me that dead people are comin' back to life."

"Well…" His emerald eyes fell to the ground as he attempted to rightly recall what was said.

"For starters, he said that we'd just have to sit still till that Thomas guy's on his feet again."

Responsively, Cyborg's eyebrow arched. "And this is a _good _decision, because…?"

"Robin said it was mostly because we _still _don't know where he came from, and Rae said there's a good chance that this guy has that 'artifact' she was talking about…"

A face-fault crossed the changeling's features as a less than pleasant memory visited him.

"…The way he snatched that bag away from me, I'd think he's got it in there. But anyway, she also said that probably the only reason this 'Mothsera' thing attacked that guy's home was because the artifact was somewhere around there, and he knew it."

It didn't take long for Cyborg to catch on to where Beastboy was going with this.

"So, Rae's actually saying that she _wants _this guy's help?"

Beastboy shook his head and shrugged.

"I guess so, it makes sense to me. I mean, we don't know what we're up against."

The last half of his statement inwardly mortified Cyborg.

"No, I guess you're right." He replied while shaking his head once more. "We've got no _clue _what we're up against."

And at that moment, the living quarter went quiet.

So _insecurely _quiet.

"I didn't _think_ you had gone to sleep."

Thomas didn't need avert his gaze from the window; he could see Raven's reflection standing in the now yawning doorway.

"How…" He interrupted himself to turn and face her, "How much do you know? About…"

"Enough." The mystic replied while walking further into the room, causing the door to lose registration of her presence and slide shut. Her hand gestured to the bed as she grew closer to the boy.

"Sit."

To her unforeseen surprise, he complied, and after taking a seat next to him, she placed a hand on one of his, and begun, "I know who Mothsera is, I know where he got his immortality from, and I know why he attacked you."

Thomas winced at the last few words, but didn't interject, allowing her to continue.

"What I _don't_ know is where you came from, and whether or not you have what he wants."

"The mask?"

The sudden question threw Raven off.

"Excuse me?"

The young man made no attempt to explain, and instead rose from the bed to seize his satchel, still discarded on the top of the nightstand.

Raven only watched curiously as he reached inside, and extracted the contents.

A gasp escaped dispersed from her lips as it came out into the open, and she found herself staring at two pairs of narrow, sinister eyes.

"It talks to me." Thomas noted while offering it to her. "In my head."

With slight detectable reluctance, she allowed the demonic mask to slip into her hands.

"…So." She managed to work her lungs as the surprise begun to subside, although the remark that ensued was barely audible, "This was it."

Raven brought her eyes to bear on the boy that sat before her. For once, he was staring directly at her, not putting his attention off anywhere else.

"Thomas." Her tone strengthened, "This mask's creator is a monster. He holds no value on life. Selfish, and vain, he's no better than Mothsera, but…"

She struggled with her next words while handing the mask back to him.

"He made this for the sole purpose of destroying what you encountered. And I'm afraid that because of that…_you're _the only one that can wear it."

Thomas backed away as the meaning of this became evident.

"…No…"

Despite this rejection, Raven continued, "Robin says that we're going to do everything we can to kill Mothsera, but Thomas…" She held fast to his hand, keeping him from backtracking any further.

"We can't do this alone!"

The fear that claimed his eyes was almost more than she could bear. But still, her resolve remained strong.

"I can't _stand _asking you to go back there, but we _need_ you."

-Fin-

Needlessly long author's notes 

I, dear readers, am a genuine jackass.

Now, I say this for a vast array of reasons, but only one in particular has to do with the release of this fanfiction. When Frailty (my other, far larger work) gained some gauge of popularity, I _swore _that I would focus on that, and only that. NOTHING would disrupt its progress.

I always found it stupidly ironic how I could keep a promise with someone else pretty well, but could never do the same with myself, because over the past few weeks, I've not only broke this frail little pact, but I've thrown it on the ground, stomped on it, set it on fire, then stomped on it again.

Usually, I can manage to stuff an inventive idea for a fanfiction down, but this Splatter House thing just killed me (And the fact that there's only ONE SH fanfiction on this sight, which leaves much to be desired, didn't assuage my dilemma).

My mind was, in fact, so captured by it, I begun to fear that if I didn't do _something _about it, my leanings would begin to creep into Frailty, and I _certainly _couldn't have that.

Thus, this was birthed.

Even as I type this, I'm wondering, "Why the Hell am I 'really' going to go through with calling this 'Rose, tint my world'?"

If one knows what I'm referencing, surely they would agree, it's none too becoming of the fanfiction.

Well, aside from the fact that titles _really _don't bear that much significance to me, I went through tons of names, ranging from "A blood-red Rhapsody", to simply "Bury me". I very nearly stuck with "My own summer" after the Deftones song, but realized that it would probably cause a potential reader to think I was just offering some lame SI fanfiction, so that was out.

…And after going damn near brain-dead, I figured "Hey, why the Hell not just pull something from The Rocky Horror picture show?"

I dunno, it seemed like a good idea at the time, and I'm _always_ getting that damned song stuck in my head (Particularly the part where Brad starts singing…shudder) so, I'm sticking with that.

**A brief history on Splatter House**

Now, being as there was only ONE fanfiction in the SH section, I'm sure a lot of people that read this don't know the subject of my alleged crossover (I like to think of it as inspiration, but expensive copyright infringement attorneys would beg to differ)

SO, let's take a trip back to 1988, when the first Splatter House game hit the arcades of America, giving birth to a trilogy that would span to 1993.

SH was a Japanese import from Namco, and is said to have had multiple western inspirations, including Evil Dead and Friday the thirteenth.

Ironically, when it came to America, it was never released on a platform of any kind, and stuck around for vaguely less than a year before the bigots (God damn them) begun to raise Hell.

This game, they complained, was too graphic, and a complementary overturned cross that served as one of the bosses didn't make them any happier.

Now mind you, I wasn't even a year old at this particular time, and only recently has my sister download an emulator capable of playing arcade games (I've beat it already, and needless to say, it promptly became my favorite of the three games)

A few years later, Splatter House 2 surfaced here in the states, and was pretty damned well cleaned up, as opposed to its predecessor. Still, at the time, I was a wee lad, and watching my older brother play it, I would subsequently get the shit scared out of me.

My memories of 93 and the last installment of Splatter House are vague, and to be blunt, I prefer to keep it that way, seeing as it was my _least _favorite.

This game was, I suppose to paraphrase, was an obscure pixilated side-scroller.

You were some bald guy named Rick who wore a mask that granted you this ungodly amount of strength, and ran around punching humanoid-esque abominations, or occasionally picking up crude weapons and smashing them into walls.

The plot-line of the very first game is hardly legible, little is explained, and the ending is…confusing, to say in the least (Imagine the main character standing in front of a burning building, not trying to escape, just…standing there.)

And when SH2 rolled around, they based it off what little plot existed in the first…thus it was still baffling, and by the time the third one came up, I _really _just didn't care anymore.

Aside from the weird, choppy plotflow, I noticed that in every game, the mask Rick donned was…different. (The arcade version in America had to have a red mask because, as white, it bore a striking resemblance to a Hockey Mask, which of course identified to Jason Voorhees, which in turn identified to 'Lawsuit')

Now, between the first and second, it was small, mainly just the strap that was supposed to keep the mask fastened (The first, it looked like some sort of velcro material, and in the second, it all just seemed to be connected)

But on the third, there was no fastening at all, the mask just looked like it was _stuck _on Rick's face.

…All of that may have seemed like rambling, but it is, in fact, how I managed to incorporate Splatter House into TT.

From what I could gather, the game took place on a swampy, depressing island.

That made me think of Titans Island; possibility.

Since the plot throughout much of Splatter House was shot from the get-go, I could see no reason to put Rick in this fanfiction, so I came up with Thomas Hefty. The plot-line is, I suppose, my own creation, although how events fall into place will probably mirror that of SH, and much of the bestiary are going to be that which the game had.

The 'Mothsera-Greco-Roman' thing, sketchy as it is, is my own creation. I had to come up with a 'Super Bad Guy' and a basic reason that all of this was happening, so I slapped that together and, after a few days of desperately trying to produce something better, realized I couldn't. I'm pretty sure that _probably _caused some plot contrivance with the actual show, especially concerning Trigon, but that's just the price one pays for not doing their homework.

Among the many, _many _things that Namco didn't go into specifics with on SH, the mask's whereabouts stood out. Citing another opportunity, I thought "Trigon!" and fancied my home-made story-line up with that little twist.

To further that, I figured I may as well change the detail of the mask around, to make it look more becoming of one of his creations…Namco had no problem with doing it at every turn, so why not me?

…Well, with all of that mess outta the way, I'm banking on a miracle that I can carry this, and Frailty on, but I can't quite fathom just letting either slip into that 'never to be completed' pile, so I'm doubling my effort to do this, and do it right.

Say a prayer for me, folks, because I'm going the long run.


	2. Nostalgia Syndrome

"Rose, tint my world"

Chapter two, "Nostalgia Syndrome"

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Yes, we finally see some action in this chapter. Not much, admissibly, but it's there.  
On another more important note, at the end of this chapter, I've got a sidestory featuring none other than Blackfire. A pretty heavy reference from a Racewing fic was made in it, outlining a lovely lil' establishment called "The 'Roid"…all you _really _need to know is that it was a maximum security prison centralized on an asteroid that she had been placed in, and broke out of…with little difficulty.

It'll do you good to read it, as well, being as these two stories will run into each other further down the line (Provided that my muse lives that long)

"…Blood on the streets in the town of New Haven.

Blood stains the roofs and the palm trees of Venice.

Blood in my love in the terrible summer.

Bloody red sun of fantastic L.A

BLOOD!

Screams her brain as they chop off her fingers

BLOOD!

Will be born in the birth of the nation

BLOOD!

Is the rose of Mysterious union."

"PeaceFrog", -The Doors

It was hardly registered when dawn made its eventual ascension to the horizon of Jump city.

This was mainly due to the fact that day, at the given moment, could no longer be distinguished from night.

The rolling thunder clouds that consumed the sky barely shifted in intensity, and the very vaguely less severe shade of black they adopted didn't quite qualify as change.

That, as much as a wholesome lack of sleep, was to blame for the collective tardiness the Titans premiered in emerging from their quarters.

Thomas, however, was a none-too-shocking exception.

At precisely seven, the shaken boy left his room, and traipsed silently into the living quarters.

Even before entering, the smooth hissing snakes of rain settled into his earshot.

Rather than front any shy attempt to make himself more at home, he approached one of the large windows, and gazed quietly out.

Occasionally, he would switch focus from the mainland, which barely managed to penetrate a dense veil of early morning fog, to the steady cascades of rainwater that washed over glass.

But for four solid hours, he stood perfectly still.

When those four hours took their eventual toll, he was startled by a slightly familiar, but moreover intentionally _loud _voice, "_Dude!_"

Thomas whirled around to see that the green boy who had taken his bag yesterday had, from the looks of his hair and eyes, just awoken.

"Now this storm stuff is just…_scary_."

As if the violent weather had set him under some mild trance, Beastboy offered nary a good morning as he stepped past Thomas, to gape out the window.

"I hope this clears up soon." His remark was light and conversational. Not becoming of the circumstances, from any rational standpoint.

"I remember last year when Hurricane Luis hit the coast and we had to help all those dumb beach people evacuate. _Man_, that was a pain. We _actually _had to convince some lunatic that his wife and kids were more important than 'surfing the big one'. Some of those people are just…"

"You're…" Thomas begun to interrupt, but fell short.

Beastboy cast a quizzical gaze unto him, prompting to get it out. With some struggle, he managed, "You're _afraid_…aren't you?"

The reply fell from dramatic expectation. "Huh?"

Thomas shook his head dismissively. "Nothing. No, just…forget I ever said anything."

And to follow this up, he turned as to start for the dining area, but stopped short when Beastboy spoke in a slightly hollow tone, "I'm terrified."

A gaze over the shoulder revealed the changeling, wearing one of his sparse 'serious' faces.

"Rae told us everything she knew yesterday. Don't think I've ever been so scared, but I hate showing it, so I just try to…put it off, y'know?"

Thomas stalled too long in answering to this, and lost his chance to produce anything at all when Robin emerged.

"Wow, and I'm usually the early bird of the group."

Both Thomas and Beastboy looked toward the Boy Wonder as he took his exiting step from the boarding corridor.

"Morning, you two."

The former offered a shy nod of his head, whereas Beastboy found further use for his vocal cords,

"Will you look at the weather? This is _insane!_"

"I know." Robin glanced out the windows at the ongoing storm. Stronger still, the clouds rolled through with no sign of subsiding.

"I'm hoping it's not going to interfere with what I have in mind for today…" His attention readjusted onto Thomas. "How're you feeling, Thomas? Get enough sleep?"

Again, the boy replied with a nod of his head. "Yes. Thanks for…everything."

Robin smiled. "Don't mention it. If you don't mind, I'd like to sit you down after the others wake up, so we can ask you some questions."

For the third time, a nod acted as the response.

Perhaps past his frail mental condition, Thomas Hefty wouldn't be described as having the gift of gab.

And to some slight degree, this made Robin less than expectant for the questioning he promised.

"Alright, Thomas. What we have to know is pretty simple, but your answers have to be precise."

Thomas did not spare his eyes from the ground, even as Robin spoke.

Starfire, Beastboy and Cyborg sat on the left of the living room's three couches and had made it a point to ensure that Thomas wound up on the right.

He didn't entirely mind this, as the position taken up allowed him to stare directly into the eyes of Raven, whom stood silently at the foot of the boarding corridor.

The others knew better than to attempt including the sorceress into this particular venture, especially when her mood had been considered, but as Robin pulled the questioning off the runway, she made her standoffish appearance.

The plain blue irises never once left Thomas' hunched form.

"Gathering from some of the things you said yesterday, we've guessed that you're _not _from Jump City. That right?"

The boy nodded. With both hands cupped over his mouth, a muffled, "Yes." followed. This, however, was as far as he went.

Robin didn't let the hopeless possibility of more detail stall him, though. "So, where _did _you come from?"

"…The Vintage strand." Was his reluctantly placed answer.

"I heard o' that place." Cyborg's interjection did Thomas an oblivious favor.

"Some chain of swamp islands a pretty good clip across the ocean, ain't it?"

"Yes."

"But if I did my homework right…" His lone eye exhibited a fast recall of dusty, old memory, "the entire strand was bought by some wealthy family five or so years ago."

"Yes, that was…" A hard wince cut Thomas off mid-sentence. The entire group tensed at this, but the only support offered came from Robin, "Take your time."

The next words were labored, and unsteady.

"They were my family. An aristocratic widow, and her little boy, David."

"…David?" Starfire was first to voice the question that immediately settled into the mind of everyone present.

"Did you not say your name was…"

"I was adopted."

All further queries, or _intended _queries were promptly killed by this.

This, being something no one figured would be happening in any _proximal _timeframe.

Thomas Hefty was beginning to open up, and as some sort of stimulant, his speech dilemma lifted.

"The most I remember about my _real _parents is empty beer cans, and loud music…" The young man's eyes went distant as the facets of his sordid life settled upon him.

"And all my dad's rings…" His fist leveled suddenly, "and the marks they left." And proceeded to gently swing into the open palm of his other hand.

In the space that this information relayed, the living room was silent as a grave. Most did not speak simply because of the countenance of what they heard; Starfire was the only one truly shocked speechless.

Although physical strength was greatly revered on Tamaran, and fighting was carried out through the good of sportsmanship, what one here on Earth would deem as 'Domestic abuse' wasn't even a thought in her head- -let alone to one's own _child_.

"…One day, it just all stopped. The police took them away, locked them up for a _long _time, and they put me in a group home…I sometimes wonder if I'd have been better off on my own…"

This was too much for Robin, and he willed himself to speak, "They weren't abusive, too…were they?"

Thomas quickly shook his head, "No, they just…nobody wanted me."

A sad, heavy sigh ensued.

"I spent a long time alone, they said it was because I wouldn't talk as much as the other kids. That confused me because my dad…could never stand…"

Struggle included itself anew as Thomas bore on. This time, however, he had to switch subjects, for fear of digging too far down.

He didn't want to think about those days, and these benevolent people didn't need to hear about them.

"The years went by, and just melted into one. I shut myself off from the rest of the world, lost sense of time, direction…_everything_."

"But someone took you in eventually, right?"

Beastboy took an interest in the conversation piece, perhaps out of his vague appreciation for the subject-change, and was sure to add his say.

Thomas nodded to the delightful memory, "It was five years ago, but it's still fresh in my head. She was in her mid thirties, with an infant son. Her husband died in some sort of freighter explosion, I never got the whole story, but from what she _could _tell me, they were good together. So good, that all the money she got from the lawsuits, and even David's _future _couldn't help her."

"So she adopted you?" The Changeling queried further while leaning in.

"Much as she loved David, he was just a little baby. She told me she needed someone she could really talk to. I can't really blame her, the grieving, and the seclusion…"

His voice faltered, but promptly picked back up, "I guess we had a lot in common, we got along great.

And then one day she decides to take three fourths of her winnings, and buys that Strand. Where we lived before was getting to violent, crime ran rampant, and she didn't want David growing up in that kind of atmosphere."

From this point, Thomas' demeanor took an abrupt, steep decline. With a quivering jaw and an uncharacteristically rough tone of voice, he pressed on. "That's what made things so ironic, so _fucked up_, we moved there for an improvement, and then…"

Tears begun to spill from his eyes, though no one could tell if it was sadness, or white-hot rage. For fear of the latter, he managed only two more words without disruption.

"And…then…"

"Enough, Thomas." Robing advanced forward and placed a hand on Thomas' shoulder and, sure to elaborate, added, "I mean _that's _enough, you've told us all we need to know."

"Not necessarily."

Raven's dry, hoarse voice interjected from the hallway.

All heads turned toward the mystic as she approached.

"You never answered my question last night, Thomas."

She stopped only a foot shy of the boy, whom was now whipping his tears away.

He, of course, was the only person presiding that knew what she was talking about.

However, he _wasn't _the only one to note the desperately hopeful look in her eyes.

And whilst returning that with a similar gaze, he spoke in an unsteady voice, "I'm going to have to wear it…"

Silence.

"I'm going to have to wear _him_, aren't I?"

Lost as they may have been, the others only watched as a dramatically fierce stare-down followed.

One that Raven was, by observation, losing.

In a gradual fashion, she replied, "There's…just no other way. I wish there was, but…"

This struck them, Beastboy particularly, with a significant impact.

The few times Raven spoke, she was clear, concise, and generally acid-tongued.

She sparingly sounded _apologetic_, and she _never _trailed off like this.

Whatever the subject she had touched base on may have been, it was _clearly _the source of great struggle.

And indeed, that assumption was correct.

Whether Thomas Hefty could tell or not, asking something like this ate Raven up on the inside.

To escape from the fury Mothsera had the potential of raising, only to be shoved back into it.

No, this was a question that did nothing short of torment Raven with every word she breathed.

Worse still, it was a no-win situation. Yes or no, the answer wasn't going to be savory.

Unbeknownst to her, Thomas, or anyone else, fate had different plans in store.

All at once, the Tower's alarms sounded off, braying an unbearably loud racket into the living room.

The vague shock that assailed the titans from this prevented any of them from noticing Thomas nearly jump out of his skin.

"WHAT'S GOING ON?" He shouted over the unbearably loud klaxons.

"Trouble!" Robin gave an unsatisfying reply, then started for the wide screen set directly before the couches.

With a strike of the 'console' button, a map-display of Jump city arose, and pinpointed a particular locale labeled "HQ" in bright green lettering.

To this, the boy wonder scratched his head.

"…at the police headquarters?"

"DUDE!" Beastboy's drawn out grown prevailed amongst the klaxons, "When is that crack-pot chief gonna' learn that if he wants to tell us something all he has to do is CALL?"

His fingers proceeded to plug into his ears, "I mean _seriously_, that button is for EMERGENCY ONLY!"

Nearly a solid minute passed before Robin managed to kill the symphony of noise, and after a few vain attempts to reorientate his ears, turned toward the others.

"Well, he might not be as good as the last police chief, Beastboy, but we're still public servants, and we _still _have an obligation to answer his calls."

Upon making this note, he turned to Thomas.

"I guess I should've told you earlier, but it's our job to keep Jump City safe. And when the chief calls like this, we kinda' _have _to hear him out."

"Yeah." Cyborg rose from the couch, "'less we wanna' start _paying _for the cable."

"So," Robin picked back up, "I think there should be _just _enough room in the T-car for one more…if, of course, you want to tag along."

Thomas nodded his head rather quickly. "I…don't think I wanna be alone."

Why Wesley Underwood, quite possibly the most bumbling, impulsive man in Jump, was actually chief of the city's police force was anyone's guess.

Had the position's entry been based off merit and a sense of leadership, he wouldn't likely have gotten it, but in the end, what could Wesley say?

Thirty years of faithless service as sheriff in a neighboring county, the abrupt retirement of his predecessor, and a risky 'transfer' procedure that raised many-a-public-eyebrow worked more magic than he expected.

…_Magic._

Underwood was caught by that word. At the present moment, he wouldn't have considered it appropriate, although he sought nothing to replace it with, being as he simply could not admit to himself that the trials of his undeserved position were getting to be too much for him.

For the upteenth time, the Chief cast a sidelong glance through the blinds of his window.

From here, he had an excellent view of the parking lot, and damn it all if they _still _hadn't shown up. It was difficult to see past the driving rain, but he could tell. In his old age, a lot of the senses were waning, but by-God, his sight hadn't gone _yet_.

A heavy sigh released as he sank down into his chair, and looked over several papers strewn across his desk.

Oh, well. No need to rush this.

Wesley still had to come up with some kind of story to make himself look completely innocent of his predicament. The Governor had already begun to clue into several of the mistakes he had made in the past, and that asshole Assistant Chief of Staff had been riding on him from the get-go. If word of his negligence in _this _particular episode got out…

He shook his head sadly.

If word of his negligence got out, Wesley Underwood could kiss not only his position, but his badge goodbye.

"Chief?" A voice crackled through an intercom on the desk, startling Underwood half out of his mind.

After casting an irritated glance at it, he held down the 'speak' button, and muttered, "Go ahead, Nancy."

The return from his secretary less than a room away brought something he did _not _want to hear.

"The kids're here, they said you called them."

He made sure the button was _not _depressed as he let out a long, frustrated wail, "Oh, _nooo_!"

Why the Hell did he call them in the _first _damn place? Now Underwood _knew _he was too dependent on them.

The Titans were uncomfortable as it stood. Wesley Underwood's secretary, Nancy Wilhelm was an old battle-axe that believed the Teen Titans stole the esteemed honor and glory that was intended for Jump City's _finest_.

That being said, it was seldom that they ever received a warm welcome upon answering the plethora of calls the Chief put forth.

Now, she sat in the rolling chair behind her desk, _far _too concentrated on filing her nails.

Then, after what seemed like an hour of stalling, Wesley Underwood's voice replied, "Send 'em in."

Without even bothering to look up from her handiwork, she murmured briskly, "You heard the man."

Raven, whom brought up the group's rear as they filed into the Chief's office, couldn't put a hold on her tongue, "Gee, thanks, Nancy. Don't know _what _this station would do without you."

Nancy only retorted with a 'Go to Hell' type of leer, till the mystic was out of sight.

Robin didn't waste much time on formal greetings, being as Underwood _himself _had pretty well given them up shortly after gaining his position.

Instead, the Boy wonder cut right to the chase after the door was closed.

"What's the problem this time, Chief?"

Wesley rose from his chair and worked his way around the desk.

"Hey, guys, I, uh….hope Nancy didn't give you too much hassle." His dodge was hardly graceful, and Robin didn't look amused.

"Charming, as usual."

His sarcastic reply clashed with the flat tone of voice. "What's the problem."

Wesley sighed plaintively.

No getting out of this, so what was he to do?

"Well, it's about one of my sheriffs."

Wing it, and hope like Hell that they didn't know very much about the _real _cops.

Running a hand through his hair, the Chief begun to explain, "Deputy Sheriff Ronald Hall's gone missing. He was doing his morning rounds at about seven, and just all the sudden _stopped _reporting in.

It's been nearly three hours, now. I need _someone _to figure out where my man is!"

A heavy silence followed, in the time of which, Wesley was silently _praying _they wouldn't clue in…

"Now, that's odd." Cyborg spoke up.

Underwood immediately begun worrying, and soon his reason became genuine.

"I thought an investigation was supposed to _immediately _result if the officer didn't report in for thirty minutes."

This, indeed, caused several suspicious looks to be cast unto the Chief.

"Well, surely you'll understand, I've just got _too _much going on right now to tenaciously follow Standard Operating Procedure, I mean…"  
"It's alright Chief, I totally hear ya'.." Beastboy interrupted, causing Wesley to look toward him. Beads of sweat had broken out on his brow.

"You're _way _too busy calling us for _dumb stuff _like this!"

The Changeling snapped, then turned to the exit

"C'mon, let's let him handle his own for _once_."

Surprising as Beastboy taking the assertive may have been, it quickly came second to what resulted when he tried to open the door.

"Guys, _please_!" Wesley took a wide step forward and snapped the door shut.

"Look, I _know_ I'm not as good the last Chief, but I'm doing the best I can, I'm still new to this thing!"

His pleading tone destroyed further protest.

"So, I'm asking you, not as Chief of Jump City police, but as a simple human being trying to make his way in the world, _help me out_!"

Just when it seemed Wesley Underwood was going to drop to his knees and outright _besiege, _he lapsed into a hopeful silence.

"…Touching." Raven was first to remark in the wake of the spectacle, snapping Robin out of the vague trance it had placed him under.

"Alright, alright, Underwood, we'll find this guy for you." He shook his head and sighed.

"Where was he when he last reported in?"

"State road thirty seven." Wesley answered without missing a beat. "It's a little farming community just on the outskirts of the city."

"You talkin' about that 'Twin Oaks' place?" Cyborg cut in, catching something vaguely familiar.

"That's right, Twin Oaks."

"Awwww, _man_!" The bionic groaned while slapping his forehead. "That place's _huge_, trying to find one lousy squad car out there's gonna be like looking for a black shirt in a dark room! Aren't you supposed to have scanners to _track _this guy?"

For the second occasion of the day, Wesley's face was creased by a hard wince.

"Alright, don't get mad…" His hands rose defensively, "But last year when we took the stock counts, I kinda sold the station's navigational systems."

For a solid minute, Cyborg could only stare blankly. Then, in a drained voice, "You…you _gotta' _be kidding me."

Underwood was quick to find distraction in the bombardment of papers upon his desk. While retreating to the other side of the office, he muttered frantically, "We were on a tight budget last year, a lot of the trainees were messing up, making us pay an arm and a leg in repair costs, I just…didn't see any other option."

At this point, the office exploded.

"YOU DIDN'T SEE ANY OTHER OPTION?" Cyborg bellowed while bounding over the desk as to set himself directly before Wesley.

"HOW 'BOUT DEMANDING AN INCLINATION ON TAXES TO _INCREASE_ YOUR BUDGETING, OR LAYING OFF SOME O' THE DO-NOTHING FREELOADERS LIKE THAT _LOVELY _SECRETARY YOU GOT OUT THERE, OR BETTER YET, WHY NOT JUST START PUSHING SOME OF THE CONVISCATED PARAPHINILLIA YOU GOT LAYIN' AROUND THIS STATION? ANY OF _THOSE _WOULD'VE BEEN BETTER OPTIONS THAN SELLING STOCKS OF _STATE OF THE ART EQUIPMENT!_"

The other Titans stared in silent awe at this, even as the beet-red hue that had dominated his face begun to taper off. Seconds turned into minutes, till finally his breathing returned to normal.

Wesley only averted his gaze from the floor when Cyborg spun on his heel and started for the door.

He accentuated his leave with a resigned, "Let's just get in the T-car n' get this over with."

Thomas, oddly enough, was first to follow suit, and exit the scene.

Robin and Raven followed in silence, but Beastboy, whom trailed naught a foot behind, was sure to leave Underwood with an impressionable remark, "And next time it better be something _important_."

Starfire brought up the Titans' rear, wearing her usual warm smile.

"Perhaps your affairs will prosper with time, friend Wesley."

The Chief gaped at her momentarily, before returning with a subtle smile of his own.

"I sure hope they will."

Beastboy had later remarked during the drive that Chief Wesley Underwood may as well have called them out in the middle of an F-5 hurricane.

In truth, it wasn't that much of an exaggeration.

The rain beat down upon the T-car's windshield consistently, and only seemed to gain strength as it pressed on, near the city limits. It was the very first occasion where the car's headlights had to be used in the middle of what would generally be considered noon.

"So…" Robin murmured without taking his eyes from the landscape's exchange of skyscrapers and sidewalks for dark, open pastures, "How big was this place, exactly?"

"Big enough to just back out." Cyborg grated, easily revealing his still bitter mood.

To this, the boy wonder inwardly winced. It looked like they had a long day ahead of them.

The search's conclusion, though seen in the wake of a great effort, held little victory.

Over the duration of the Titans' five hour absence, the tower they called home was dismally silent.

Not something one would call uniform, but still blatantly rational, given the circumstances.

Defense systems were dampened in exchange for energy conservation, the lights were shut off, and if any noise by some uncommon incident were to rise, it would echo throughout the entire establishment for what seemed like an eternity.

And such was the case when footsteps abruptly shuffled out through the main hall, on the ground floor.

Security cameras whirred to life, and took in the forms of six figures, veiled by the darkness.

Slowly, they passed through the main hall, towards the lifts.

Had there been more light, the exhaustion that played upon the bearing of the Titans and Thomas Hefty upon their return would have been plainly visible, but even so, there was significant indication.

A slow 'step-drag-step' sort of movement that each seemed to possess, most of them bent slightly forward with slumped shoulders as to accommodate a worn out torso, and an overall gradual progress that molasses paled in comparison to.

Despite this, not a yawn one was stifled.

Granted, physical tire often held the primary stake in a yawn, but to do it, one had to be on good terms with the life they were leading; nothing could be tugging at the back of their mind, or providing worry for a safe future.

That, as much as the above statement is a logical assumption, was far misplaced from the matter at hand.

What was discovered amongst Twin Oaks' stretch of two lane roads and flat grazing fields destroyed any further chance of a content life.

In their exhaustion or perhaps newfound fear, none present showed much attention to their immediate surroundings.

Inviting leather couches that furnished the main hall were passed by with nary a glance, the roll of red carpet that stretched from the front of the room right on out to the exit was traipsed over by damp soles, and terse, polished tile flooring, for all its hard maintenance, was given no gratification.

After the sight that was beheld on this fateful day, none wanted to stay on the tower's ground floor, closer to existence, for too long.

Save that, Cyborg made it a point to immediately get back to the top floor and pull the defense systems back into full operation. Hell, maybe even use the sparsely implemented 'emergence mode', if he felt it would make it a little easier to breathe tonight.

The elevator ride was coupled with a silence so heavy Robin was almost _sure _it could have achieved a gravity.

For the second occasion of the last fifteen minutes, he cast a subtle glance toward Thomas Hefty. No change. The size of the boy's eyes had not given in. Still shocked. Still terrified.

After fearing that his staring would soon gain some unwanted attention, Robin averted to Starfire.

Amongst everyone else, she worried him the most. The venture of death was one that, for all he could imagine, she had never before had to deal with. He could only hope that in her silence, she was taking it well.

A sharp _ding _broke out from the lift's roof, allowing the heavy doors to slide away.

Robin did not hesitate to retreat to the living room and, being the very first to leave the boarding corridor, was welcomed shortly thereafter by the sounds of several room doors behind him opening, then closing.

Despite how much of a time issue their predicament had become, there was simply no energy left to handle it at the current moment.

Now, Robin gazed silently out at the dead world below- -what little of it he could see, anyway.

The very person he had come to fret the most over joined him in a particularly short timeframe.

Starfire crept up silently from behind, her reflection just barely registering in the window.

"…The sheriff that friend Wesley asked us to find…he is…"

Save hopelessly lost, her tone of voice seemed hurt, causing Robin's eyes to shut tight behind his mask.

He found it ironic how they had gone in search of a stalled out vehicle, likely accompanied by a frustrated cop, and were welcomed by so much less, yet so much more.

The former was found further toward the heart of Twin Oaks. The duration of state road thirty seven that was navigated by the Titans never once refracted, but opened several breaks that led into the scarcely populated rural community.

In due time, their drawn out commute through the vast expanse of pastures and fields turned up the empty patrol car of Ronald Hall, pulled off to the side of the road with its driver's door left hanging open.

Even so, this discovery was not particularly alarming, till the sight that presided within was beheld.

The front region was a near antithesis to the back which, separated by a layer of steel fencing between the headrests, looked undisturbed.

The dull brown color of the worn leather seats in front could barely be seen through elongated smears of blood, with just a hint of handprints. The direction in which the vaguely distinguished fingers ran led the eye downward to the flooring that, in all seriousness, was flooded by the bodily fluid.

Rectangular gas and brake pedals were little more than sharp corners barely piercing the thick puddles of crimson.

The last feature of the grisly sight that was Ronald Hall's patrol car was the Citizen's Band radio. Its speaker, which was connected to the console by a coiled cord, had come to rest on the flooring.

Had any of the Titans managed to endure this spectacle for more than ten minutes, the C.B's blood-flecked receiver would have been noted on the dash; the far left notch switched to the 'emergency' frequency.

A shudder crawled up Robin's spine as he stole himself from a flashback set no less than four hours ago, and returned to the current moment.

Taking a breath, he turned slowly to face Starfire.

Both of the boy wonder's hands came to rest reassuringly on her shoulders.

"Don't think about it too much, Star." He suggested gently.

"He's in better hands, now."

The Tamaranean's emerald eyes fell to the ground as she searched for something to say. Not necessarily the _right _thing to say, but something simply to express the fragile state of mind today's events had placed her under.

"For something like this to happen…" Her voice was frail, and troubled as she hit the first half of an up-hill battle.

"Can we be sure the hands he is now in are good?"

This fell completely from expectation. Regardless of how awkwardly it was phrased, Robin could come up with absolutely nothing of the consoling variety to respond with.

Unbeknownst to both he and Starfire, however, there was someone else that presided within the living room that knew _precisely _what to say, in the worst possible context.

"I'm afraid that for the time being, that pathetic cattle you waste your minds fretting over is in _my _hands."

The tone and texture of the speaker's voice came across as a distorted, hoarse lullaby that, amongst everything else, was completely alien.

Knowing better than to remain with his guard down, Robin quickly took a defensive stance.

"Who's there?" He demanded whilst searching for a spare birdarang on his belt.

A swift spin of his heel whirled the boy wonder around, and brought the dining room into his field of vision.

A tall figure stood behind the bar, so shadowed by the room's darkness and deemed gloom, Robin had almost missed him the first time he looked.

His identity did not endure as such a mystery for long, though, before Thomas Hefty intervened with a flick of the light switch.

How long the boy had stood at the foot of the boarding corridor had lost its relevance, and his presence more-or-less welcomed when he fixed his gaze unto the intruder.

"It's…" His sole word could barely be heard over the deep gasp that escaped. "It's _you_."

To this, it smiled while laying a hand on the countertop.

"So, _this _is where you ran off to. I admit, it was an ideal dwelling for refuge. But it is over, now, and I've grown weary of your games, boy."

It took a subtle step toward Thomas, but was sure to cast a glance toward Robin and Starfire.

"I'm sorry for the disturbance that this little…_insect _has caused you. But now, I would like to take him off your hands…"

Starfire had simply frozen, but Robin managed to overcome the sheer nightmarish being that his eyes took in, and retorted, "No chance!"

To this, it scoffed. "Fool. Have you not realized that my influence has already spread to this miserable little city? It is only a question of time before I gain what I have sought for all of these years, what the firstborne tried to _steal _from me!" It advanced further on Thomas whom, surprisingly enough, did not relent.

"But it would be far less of a struggle, if I were to get what I came here for."

A decayed hand extended out to the boy, whom only stared.

"Give me the mask, Thomas…and I _may _decide to let you die quickly."

There was little if no hesitation before he growled in defiance, "That mask…is _mine_."

A clear scowl marked what little could be seen of its face, but in the same collected tone, it replied, "Not a wise decision. And here, I thought you knew what was good for you…"

The same hand that intended to receive Thomas Hefty's infernal mask now extended outward, as if to grab the boy by his throat.

Robin armed his pole in preparation to interject, but did not receive time to act before a bright blue beam shot from the other side of the room

Mothsera's offending hand was lanced with incredible aim, blowing all but the thumb away.

The scream that followed was more out of surprise than pain as it grasped the injury and redirected its attention to Cyborg, whom had emerged from behind.

"Over my dead body." The bionic declared solemnly while readying himself for another blast.

Now, Mothsera's thinning patience showed as it spoke, "More blood for me to spill? Have at you, fool, and I will steal that cocksure look from your face!"

"I think this party's got room for two more." A new voice remarked from the boarding corridors, causing the abomination to once more tear itself from its current subject.

Beastboy and Raven had chosen this moment to join the others, taking positions on either side of Thomas.

With them, the clear 'no-win' outcome of this battle arrived.

Heavily considering resignation, Mothsera folded its arms and smirked, "My, my, I did not predict there to be such opposition for so simple a goal, and I'm afraid you haven't caught me at my most presentable of moments…"

The last remark was anything but inaccurate.

Mothsera, from the neck down, was a mass of worm-infested flesh that seemed in its prime of decomposition. Only small signs of the definition he allegedly worked on with such insane passion in life remained, and even with the entire body considered, there was only one feature not entirely rotted; a wide expanse of flesh upon one half of its face that allowed vague expressions to come across.

Even so, Mothsera's slightest gesture failed to play out the way it should, namely due to this lone piece of skin's crude fastening to the skull, via two staples at either end.

"Very well, Thomas." It picked back up, sure to take a few cautionary steps in reverse.

"I shall leave you be, but even with the mask and these foolish little friends of yours, my cause cannot be compromised."

What was supposed to be a smug grin spread across the small representation of its face, "That complacent _fool,_ Trigon can't even stop me, now…But, if opposition is what you seek, I more than relish the opportunity to bring you to your knees at the strand. Till then, I bid thee farewell, and I _do _hope you cherish my…parting gift."

To follow itself up with no reluctance, Mothsera flung both arms out, signaling the worms that wove in and out of its flesh to surface. Their numbers amplified, and emerged from every possible opening, till the walking corpse they called home could no longer be seen past their writhing forms.

The Titans only watched in silent, appalled awe.

All at once, the slimy mass of insects diverged, and scattered out to different directions of the living room, emptying the tower altogether in a relatively short window of time.

Nothing could be immediately said in the wake of Mothsera's visit. Robin had redirected his focus to Starfire, whom still seemed frozen in place, and what little attention the others had saved from the horror they had become witness to was reserved for Thomas Hefty.

As if locked in a trance similar to Starfire's, the boy fixed a hard gaze on the space of floor that Mothsera once occupied with only violently trembling fists to reveal his state of mind.

And before anyone could recover to ask what Mothsera's closing statement meant, it came to them, in the form of the Tower's loud klaxons.

Robin didn't bother to address this more or less common occurrence, in exchange for clearing the distance to the wide screen in less than two seconds.

For the second occasion of the day, an overhead two-dimensional representation of Jump city was pulled unto the screen.

The program's cursor took life of its own, and immediately scrolled in the direction of the disturbance, coming to rest on a stacked parking garage in the outskirts of the commercial district.

Most of this was not registered, though, when a secondary window appeared with several paragraphs of text outlining the problem.

Robin's heart skipped a beat as he took it in. Namely, the words "Bizarre cannibalization attempt"

Several seconds were needed for this to digest.

Raven however, who had a sinking feeling about this call, didn't sit well with being left in the dark, and was quick to ask in a slightly unstable voice, "What does it say?"

Even if Robin had wanted to answer, he would not be given time before the monitor's contents abruptly divided into thirds, then fourths, and in due time, sixths.

Each window showed a separate location, and what few information links he held the nerve to look into relayed the exact same thing.

All at once, he reached forward and prodded the 'power' button, then turned around.

In an attempt to pick up his slack, he managed a vaguely audible, "Trouble" as he walked past Raven, and stopped short before Thomas.

"We can't just let what he's trying to do slide." The boy wonder's announcement came clear, but seemed more directed to the person he faced than anyone else.

"We'll stop him. But first, we've got work to do right here."

"I'm all for it." Cyborg cued in as the other Titans begun to converge around their leader.

"But what do you think our plan should be? It looks like those things have _already _popped up all over the city."

"I know." Robin's brow furrowed, "Much as I don't want to do it, we're going to have to split up. If they're really zombies, they have to be taken out, fast."

"I'm with Cy." Beastboy wasted no time making his call, but was shot down with a negative shake of Robin's head.

"Not so fast, BB. We have to consider something, first…"

Any protest he was ready rise at this died when the boy wonder proceeded to nod toward Starfire whom, though recovered from her shock, was still visibly shaken.

"Uh…Star?" Easily catching a hint, Beastboy advanced on her, and gently took an arm into his hand.

"You okay?"

"I…" She cast a gaze unto him, but made no move to break his hold. "Yes. I am okay, friend Beastboy."

"No, you're not." Robin interjected while folding his arms. "I don't think any of us are. But if we don't want anyone to get hurt, we're going to need you with us."

With a light seize of Starfire's other arm, he and Beastboy led her back to the group.

"But, I'm not going to outright _demand _you to be courageous out there, so I think it'd be best if you had two of us with you…just in case you freeze up like that again."

The Tamaranean opened her mouth immediately as if to protest, but paused.

"I understand." Her reply followed a brief delay, and was coupled with a subtle nod.

"Okay, good plan, but what're the two left on their _own _going to do?"

Raven's voice presented a subject that had long since come to rest in the mind of everyone else, but was not given as much attention.

"We might be able to hold our own for a little while, but what should we do if things get too heavy?"

"Best I can suggest is to run."

Robin was quick to notice the Mystic's eyebrows rise at this remark, and emphasized, "I think we're all on the same page about Starfire, right?"

Reluctantly, there came a group nod.

"So, I guess if I were to be…" Robin didn't receive the opportunity to finish his thought.

As if on a complete spring decision, Thomas blurted "I'll go." effectively overturning any further deliberation.

A short, awkward silence took the air before Robin picked up, "Are…you sure, Thomas?"

The boy nodded with no reluctance, as if to keep himself from debating.

"It'll be fifty-fifty. And…" His gaze edged toward Raven with each word, till the separately colored irises all but locked on her.

"And I don't want you to go to the strand…without me."

Robin only had time to present himself with a lop-sided smile before Cyborg cut in, "Alright, so Tom's gonna help us out, real sweet, but right _now_ time's wastin' and we _still _haven't figured out who's gonna go best with who…"

The stern, hectic tone of voice he presented wasn't taken for anything other than utmost importance, as Robin nodded in agreement.

"Well, I had been sketching something up, and I think things will work perfectly with Thomas, here…"

Familiar with their leader's introductory fashion of speaking, the Titans listened attentively as he begun to explain his plan.

Amongst other things, Jump city was at Mother Nature's mercy by the time the Titans had come to its aid.

The weather, for all anyone could figure, was the only reason the city wasn't entirely aware of the chaos brooding so near to them.

Only the individual with life-or-death business, or the criminally insane would endure the natural disaster that blew through the streets.

The former was a more accurate case for Robin, as he, Beastboy and Starfire neared their destination; an old park behind a landfill that was all but forgotten to the public, for the obvious reasons.

Beastboy, whose normally unruly crop of hair now matted to his head, hardly failed to remark upon the acrid odor, as they closed in on the park's basketball court, where the attack had taken place.

"Wow, that's a lovely fragrance." His sarcastic voice provided light distraction to Robin as he scoured for an entrance.

"Really, who puts a public park next to a _landfill_?"

"Couldn't tell ya'…" The boy wonder muttered a reply, then looked toward the court's left corner.

A thick, rotted shaft of wood took place where the two expanses of fencing met, and stood nearly fifteen feet with a light fixture set at the end.

Either due to age, or simply poor maintenance, the most it could do was bathe the court in a deep orange glow.

This, however, was enough for one to see the gaping cavity at the foot of the pole, just large enough to crawl through.

"…But, this is where the terminal said the problem was."

Robin was sure to finish before advancing toward the hole, and dropping to his knees.

Beastboy and Starfire on-looked in silence, then with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders, the former followed suit. Both had more conventional ways of getting past the fence, but moreover, they were content with following Robin's lead.

"So…what are we supposed to be looking for, anyway?"

Beastboy asked while recovering to his feet. Rather than answer immediately, Robin gave a once-over to the freshly entered court.

Two columns of goals running along separate ends, each no more or less in a rusted state of disrepair than the next, and small, twin brick structures at the end across from him.

Robin frowned not at realizing they were bathrooms, but to the fact that there was no evidence of any struggle. In fact, the immediate premises looked undisturbed. Peaceful, almost, in this lighting.

"That's what I _really _hated about this…" He murmured flatly. "I'm not sure."

"Perhaps it was a false call?" Starfire suggested, speaking for the first time since she had left the tower.

"We received six calls at six completely different locations in less than a minute." Robin answered promptly, "If you're right, this is one of the most elaborate hoaxes anyone's ever…"

A sharp, loud crash tore out from the front of the court, cutting him off mid-sentence.

All eyes reflexively cast onto the narrow, dark alley that was created by the court's duet of restrooms.

An empty aluminum trashcan, once set upright at the foot of the gap, now lay on its side, and was beginning to roll out into the center of the court.

Even past the driving rain, it wasn't difficult to see the large smathering of blood that basted the can's side.

Robin quickly looked up to see the culprit's shadowed form, slowly approaching.

"Titans! Get ready!" He ordered frantically while assuming the defensive.

Much as all three wanted to pursue, they waited for it to come out into the open.

Come it did.

The hunched humanoid figure that emerged from the alley held the distinction as the biggest shock of their lives, collectively. Little if any details could be distinguished past a thick, red ooze that enveloped its entire body. What appeared to be incredibly viscous blood hung from its form in full inches, but did not separate when it lifted its arms, as if to guide the gradual, unsteady movement it held.

With an open window of time, Robin cast a wary glance toward Beastboy and Starfire.

Though visibly shocked, both looked ready to engage.

Robin argued with himself only briefly before sternly ordering, "Don't do anything."

Starfire, whom was preparing to smite the creature with a well-placed star bolt, complied, but looked curiously toward Robin.

"There's only one, I'll take care of it." His command was emphasized with a prompt arming of his pole, and from that, extracting a lengthy saber.

"What the…?" Beastboy puzzled aloud, having seen the blade for the very first time.

Still, he managed a tad of lame humor through the horrific scene at hand by adding, "You never told us you were a musketeer…"

"That's because I only practice with it." Robin answered deadpan, "Unless the situation's serious."

His cue to attack came when the bloody zombie lifted its head to a slight degree and let out a hollow, ghastly moan.

With a stout grit of his teeth, the boy wonder rushed forward and swung his saber to the side in preparation for an arching slash, all the while expecting his opponent to dodge.

To all three of the Titans' surprise, it made no such move when Robin closed the distance and lashed out.

With no protest, the blade hacked into the side of its neck, taking out a wide chunk of muscle and crimson slime.

Too shocked to carry his assault further, Robin pulled out, and sprang backwards as to create some distance between the zombie and himself.

With little of its neck left, its head hung at a strange, painful looking angle. Regardless, it advanced on Robin with both arms stretched out.

"…Star…" He called in a mildly alarmed voice. Easily picking it up, the Tamaranean wasted no time beginning her own onslaught with three star bolts.

Each connected with its target in quick succession to the last, the first and second hitting the body, and the third landing a bulls-eye on one of its arms, blowing everything from the shoulder down away.

The disconnected limb hit the gravel, but continued to function, using the hand to crawl its way toward Robin's foot. Ironically enough, it made better progress than the still moving zombie it once commandeered, and nearly hooked his ankle.

Sure to step carefully around it, Robin lunged forward and pulled a hard overhead swing, easily slicing through its other arm.

With nothing left but its torso, the zombie turned to face its foe, and continued to proceed forward with labored but reliable steps.

For a moment, Robin just gaped at this, completely at a loss for what his eyes were seeing.

His trance ended quickly, however, when a blur of green broke across his field of vision and smashed into the bleeding horror's side.

Gored by a shape-shifting Beastboy whom had wisely chosen a rhyno, it flew backwards with an outstanding momentum before splattering into the broadside of the women's restroom.

In the wake of the battle, all three simply stared as it slid down the brick wall, and came to rest on the ground, unmoving.

But the heavy silence that fell upon them did not last long before Robin's communicator begun to ring.

Pulling the device to his mouth, he depressed a button on the side, and murmured, "Go ahead, Cy."

The bionic's response could barely be heard through a heavy bout of static that interfered, but the message was clear enough to understand, "Y-, ---, you f—nd ---thing?"

After taking a heavy breath, Robin replied, "Yeah, we did…it's dead. What about you?"

"Y---, we did, and I do--- think it was a ve-y good –ea to split up, 'cause ----'re every----- -- this garage! We're at the exit, s- --'re safe, but we c—'t hold 'em off forever, we ---- you guys with us!"

A heavy face fault marked his features, but in a calm tone, the boy wonder returned, "Okay, Cy, we're on our way, just sit tight."

And with a resigned sigh, he returned the communicator to its place, though the announcement he was planning to make never crossed his lips.

"Robin!" Starfire gasped, causing him to look once more to the restrooms, where the zombie was beginning to stir.

Fin, chapter two of "Rose, tint my world"

"Omicron, persei eight"

Chapter one, "Welcome to the Machine"

There was simply no substitute for military reprimand, it seemed. Not even when it came to the Centauri.

That was what it all boiled down to for Blackfire, after her exodus from the 'Roid.

Her recapture, though sluggish and particularly embarrassing for a species that had gained a rather well known reputation for policing the galaxy, elicited a fierce battle between the Centauri police force, and, ironically enough, the top brass of their very own military over which would hold the duty of keeping her securely locked away.

The board members that represented the general welfare of the police, known simply as 'The Board of Justice', did everything they could to convince the judicial branch charged with finalizing a decision that Blackfire's escape from the 'Roid was little more than a fluke that relied solely off a freak power failure.

The Military Brass, however, effectively argued that if that had _really _been the case, measures to pursue the renegade Tamaranean would have begun immediately after the fact, rather than damn near four months later, when the alleged reclaimed inmate simply _detonated _in her cell.

They also were sure to add that the reputation the police force had gained as whole likely accounted for their performance's loss of luster, which contributed greatly to Blackfire's escape.

If she were to be put back in the custody of the Centauri police, they concluded, this event would repeat itself, plain and simple.

This argument was, indeed, convincing. And try as they might, the Board of justice could do little to combat it. What little retort they held went over like a led balloon.

And six months after Blackfire's capture, it was decided; she were to be transferred from the 'Roid (Where she had been placed for the duration of the legal war) to a massive space station directly neighboring Mars, headed by a well respected official of the military.

Little did the Judicial board know, the echelon military had their own motives for fighting so fiercely.

Not even a year following the transfer, those 'motives' were formulated into plans, and those plans, in turn, were set into motion.

The colossal station, 'The Flying Osprey', hung silently in the endless void of space, having just come out of a planetary orbit with the large, red sphere below.

This was _particularly _odd, being as the station only aborted this cycle in case of an emergency. More peculiar was the lack of communication. The morning prior, all frequencies with surrounding establishments, Military and Police alike, had been cut.

By what could be considered nightfall in earth's time frame, The Flying Osprey was completely alienated from the rest of the galaxy.

Commodore Cyraqs of the fifty-second fleet stood in perfect silence upon the bridge, his gaze fixed on a window that looked out upon the Red planet. He said nothing, till a lithe man of severe features (namely sunken cheeks that made him appear starved) approached from behind.

"Commodore…" The man addressed, and though Cyraqs did not turn to face him, he nodded his head and spoke, "What have you to report, Gravebane?"

After raising a particularly awkward salute, the man, clearly a Tamaranean with his bronzed flesh and bright red hair, replied, "I have studied the nobility of my home planet, just as you ordered, sir."

"And?"

Thin lips jerked back into a conniving grin. "I heard no mention of the girl, whatsoever. If I didn't know better, I would say the entire planet's simply _forgotten _her."

Cyraqs shook his head knowingly.   
"She has royal blood coursing through her veins, Gravebane. They shall never forget."

"She has been ostracized from the planet. Practically disowned." A stubborn, slightly _huffy_ retort followed, causing the Commodore to sigh inwardly; this Tamaranean was a fool, among other things.

"That does not disestablish her nobility. If Tamaran's royalty discovers this operation, I _hardly _think they will hesitate to seek repercussion, of the worst fashion."

Now, he spun around to cast a solemn gaze unto Gravebane.

"I trust you are aware of just how important it is to maintain the absolute secrecy of this operation."

The subordinate nodded his head, but simply wouldn't wipe that vexing, cocksure smile from his face.

"I do, Commodore. I simply declare that such concern may tamper with the operation's precedents. But regardless, I _do_."

"Good." Cyraqs turned back to the window.

"Then gather a detainment team and fetch her from the D-Block."

"Yessir." Again, Gravebane raised his weird salute (something involving flinging his arm out, as to cause the back of his hand to smack against his forehead) and started for the extensive brig of the Flying Osprey.

Blackfire, for her part, sat on the edge of her cell's cot, pondering deeply.

With her time spent in the 'Roid, and the few months of incarceration she endured here, on the Flying Osprey, groveling over her capture had long since been replaced with musing over a way out.

She guiltily admitted to herself that her last escape from the 'Roid was almost completely dependant on that temp clone, but she also knew that she had been in _much _worse binds than this.

And as long as she had her powers, a solution would, at some point, present itself.

For what must've been the sixth time in the last hour, Blackfire rose from the cot and ventured across the cell, to a space of wall towards the very back.

After issuing several well-rounded kicks to its base, she was almost _sure _that, for whatever reason, this particular spot was a few inches thinner than all the rest.

Possibly a former service hatch, or vent for the A.C's, she wasn't sure, but it _felt _hollow, and that was always a start.

Little did Blackfire know, as she knelt over to further her studying, that the staff of the Flying Osprey had other plans for her.

_Footsteps. _

These were the first sounds that greeted her, and a sharp click, then a dull whir promptly followed them.

The girl gazed over her shoulder casually, to be welcomed by a not-so-casual sight.

The force field that detained her was, for all she could tell, gone.

Figuratively replacing it were three heavily armored Centauri footmen, each armed with an 'LK-14' Combat pulse rifle. This normally wouldn't have intimidated her so, but the LK-14's were well known for having tranquilizer mounts just underneath the central barrel. Blackfire had concluded that this damned gun was the main reason for her capture.

You could take the biggest, baddest brute in the galaxy, pit it against six or seven doses of the sedatives those things pumped out, and he'd be out like a light.

Another far less fatigued character joined this armed and armored trifecta. He was a tall, scrawny Tamaranean that, in Blackfire's opinion, didn't boast much for looks.

And in due time, he wouldn't have a whole lot running for charms, either.

"Good evening, Miss Blackfire." He greeted, while taking a subtle step into the cell; a move the sentries were sure to follow.

Blackfire put on a sugary smile and replied, "Same to you, sir. Anything I can service you boys with?"

Gravebane curtly placed both hands behind his back before responding, "Well, would you mind telling me what you're doing?"  
"Oh, just some wallpaper stuff." She broke her confrontation with the wall to recover to her feet, and face the lithe man.

"Despite the lack of living space, this place isn't bad. I'm lookin' to buy."

He allowed himself to chuckle briefly.

"Well, I'm afraid the Commodore requires your presence."

Blackfire feigned surprise (or perhaps care) while placing a hand to her chest.

"The Commodore? What could such a decorated character want with a lil' ole' upstart like me?"

"Well, that, you shall soon discover in the worst way, I am afraid…"

His pleasant smile adopted a small degree of malice, which caused Blackfire's concern to quickly become genuine.

"What?"

Rather than answer, Gravebane turned toward the exit and muttered to the nearest guard,

"Plug her."

Blackfire was barely given time to assume the defensive before three of the accursed darts hit her.

Immediately, her vision slowed and distorted.

This, however, wasn't enough to stop the renegade Tamaranean, and whilst attempting to blink the world back into focus, she jerked forward and belted the most proximal guard across the face.

The abrupt retaliation was rewarded by a voice amplification system emitting a terrified squawk as he toppled over, but in the time Blackfire turned her back, darts four and five were quick to sink between her shoulder blades.

"Uaaaahhhg!"

What she intended to be a string of particularly nasty obscenities emerged instead as a strained groan.

The legs that once carried her faithfully across the planet of Garmaria on a six-day string of heists now jellified under the effect of five tranquilizer darts.

Her next attempt to swing morphed to a less than graceful collapse into the arms of the very guard she punched. Rather than keep the half-conscious convict supported, he aborted his grip and let her hit the concrete floor below.

The pain that subsequently engulfed her jaw and cheek was little compared to the reddish blobs that she had begun to perceive which, from a sober standpoint, were the boots of the sentries.

A lone declaration voiced over a comms radio coupled her descent into a heavy, sedative induced slumber, "Prisoner Number nine thousand twenty seven has been subdued in preparation for Operation Whitesnake."

The follow up to this was little more than incoherent babble to her as she teetered on the brink of unconsciousness, "Good. See to it that she is taken to the Bio labs, and make sure security is stepped up in the surrounding wing. No one comes in, no one goes out till everything is said and done. Am I clear, Private?"

"Crystal, sir."

Considering her most wanted status, which came as a result of a vast _array _of crimes spanning across multiple galaxies, Blackfire had her fair share of mentally impairing beverages amidst the bar scene, and other more trivial circumstances.

She also, in subsequence, had her fair share of potentially _lethal_ hangovers.

All of the 'morning after's she had suffered in her life as an outlaw, however, paled in contrast to what greeted her when she awoke from her sedation.

It was difficult to adjust her vision, at first.

Not due to the heavy drowsiness or even the tranquilizers, but the room she had been placed in was pitch dark.

Had Blackfire held her hand out before her face, it would not have been visible.

This wasn't quite registered, though, over other presiding stimuli.

All at once, she was assailed by the worst migraine she could ever recall weathering.

'Split-skull' didn't prevail over 'fault-line' as the most accurate description.

With all the strength and determination she could muster, the girl struggled into a sitting position and grasped the sides of her throbbing head. The pain only grew, but it came second to what resulted from her movement.

All too abruptly, her stomach rose protest to being disturbed, and let the world know it.

Suddenly, _violently_, Blackfire jerked to the side and hung her head over the edge of the bed she had been sprawled across. She just barely managed to drop her jaw, permitting a thick, bright yellow substance to free-flow out to the ground; _whereever the Hell the ground was_.

Far more than bitterness accounted for its taste. A burning, acidic tinge fried the recesses of her mouth, prompting her to hurry and get it all out.

After a few more frail heaves, the last of the alleged vomit was disposed to the floor, but a rancid aftertaste remained.

And the steadily worsening headache kept it company.

Physically drained, she slumped onto her back, and lay still.

This more than willingly accepted dormancy did not endure, however, when a wide monitor from somewhere beyond the bed flickered to life, bathing her accommodations in an eclectic blue glow.

"Ah, so our favorite subject awakens at _last_."

Despite her suffering, Blackfire lifted her head just enough to see the interjecting appliance, and the withered face it displayed.

It was certainly _not _a Centauri, nor for that matter, a Tamaranean. If she didn't know better, she'd say the person she currently traded blank stares with was an…

"Earthling?" Her voice was hoarse and raspy, but audible as she applied some loose identification to the person.

"Indeed. Perhaps I should explain, I am Professor Gretschel, and I've focused my career as a man of science on the physical potential of my species. My findings and studies have become rather well known, over the years…" His brow creased in thought at his own remark.

"So well known, in fact, that the staff of this lovely station sent word for my assistance in an experiment they hoped to carry out on one of their tenants. You see, Blackfire, the procedure we have successfully implemented on you has required months of planning…"

"_Procedure_?"

This caused a certain panic button in Blackfire's head to be pressed, subsequently setting off loud sirens.

"_PROCEDURE?" _

She flew once more into a sitting position, easily shrugging off the pains that her stomach prompted.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME?"

Her demanding bellow clashed sharply with Gretschel's calm, collected texture of voice as he answered, "We, dear child, have realized a pinnacle in molecular science. With the gracious donation of your once superb physical being, a new milestone has been reached."

"Gracious my ass!" Blackfire bristled as she staggered from the bed and advanced on the monitor.

Frail as she was, her fuse had been lit and _something _was going to pay.

"I gave you and your conniving little buddies no permission to do a _damn thing _with me! What do you mean by 'once superb physical being', and why was I drugged and dragged outta my cell?" She grew to such a proximity that her snarling face was directly in front of the Gretschel's.   
"I want some answers, and if I don't get them…"

The livid girl clenched both fists as to permeate a violet glow of warding, and to her near hysterical surprise, was met by absolutely _nothing_.

The white-hot rage that had been building with significant strength promptly died.

Blackfire turned both hands to expose her palms to the ceiling, then glanced quizzically down at them.

Yup. Notta.

She averted to the screen before her. Gretschel had donned a pretty damned well vexing smile upon his old, wrinkled face, suggesting what he had done.

But Blackfire's denial pushed it away. Again, she clenched her fists and channeled her anger.

…And again, there was no outcome…save a substantial amplification of her headache from all that screaming.

It was now evident, she could no longer push it away. As a result, her head begun to grow light, and beads of sweat broke out on her brow.

Reality had already thrown some pretty nasty curve balls simply to devastate her life, but _now _it was bending and distorting to steal from her something more precious than supreme ruler of the galaxy, or her freedom, or even revenge upon her sister.

Now, it was taking a birthright she couldn't imagine existing without.

The last thing she heard before fainting from shock was a complimentary barb from Gretschel, "I'm proud to be the first to welcome you…to the machine that is Human existence."

To Blackfire's very small, almost microscopic surprise, she had not been replaced to her cell over the duration she slept. Moreover, the monitor still displayed the notorious Professor Gretschel.

"My, my." He remarked flatly at seeing her slight recovery. "To pass out at the reaction of your situation…rather weak in constitution, if you ask me."

Blackfire's lips curled into an enraged snarl as she struggled to her hands and knees.

"You had better hope…" She growled while shifting to one hand, as to ball up a fist.

"That we never meet in person."

Gretschel hardly looked phased.

"And what would you hope to accomplish, child?"

"I'd cave your wrinkled-up face in, you old fart!" The girl snapped, then added, "There was way more to me than just my powers, and if you think I'm gonna just let this fly…"

"_More to you than just your powers_,we know all _about _you, you mistempered fool."

This sharp interjection easily shut Blackfire up.

"And though this operation may have gone well, you still have well over six months worth of exploratory testing to ensure that life can still be sustained, so you had better get used to me.

Push my buttons and I promise you, I _will _make your miserable little life not worth living."

As quickly as he gained it, Gretschel's venomous tone of voice died, and was replaced by a warm smile.

"But try to look on the bright side, you are now The Flying Osprey's most _valued _inmate. For the duration of your tests, we have given you board in one of the station's Warden suites, with the proper security measures included, of course, _and _your sentence has been reduced by four years."

Blackfire smirked at this, feeling some of her anger satiate. But only slightly.

"Gee, Gretsch, as much as that sweetens the pot, I'm afraid it doesn't _quite _add up to what you stole from me."

"I agree. But I'm sure you will learn to live with it. Though we managed to drain you of a great deal, we could _not _take the remarkably drawn out life span that your race is known for having. Thus, you will have plenty of time to adjust."

"I don't want to adjust." Blackfire grated. "I want to KILL you!"

FIN

"…Micheal Rennie was ill the day the Earth stood still,

but he told us where we stand.

And Flash Gordon was there, in silver underwear.

Claud Rains was the invisible man.

Then something went wrong for Fay Wray and King Kong,

they got caught in a celluloid jam.

Then at it deadly pace, it came from outer space,

And this is how the message ran…

'Science fiction, double feature.

Doctor X will build a creature.

See androids fighting Brad and Janet.

Anne Francis stars in Forbidden Planet.

Oh, oh, oh, o-o-oh, at the late night double feature picture show.'

I knew Leo G. Carrol was over a barrel

When Tarantula took to the hills.

And I _really _got hot when I saw Jannete Scott

Fight a Triffid that spits poison and kills.

Dana Andrews said prunes gave him the runes

And passing them used lots of skills.

"When the worlds collide", said George Pal to his bride,

"I'm gonna' give you some terrible thrills."

…Like a…

Science fiction, double feature.

Doctor X will build a creature.

See androids fighting Brad and Janet.

Anne Francis stars in Forbidden Planet.

Oh, oh, oh, at the late night double feature picture show.

I wanna' go, oh, o-o-oh, to the late night double feature picture show.

By R.K.O, oh o-o-oh

To the late night double feature picture show.

In the back row, oh o-o-oh

To the late night double feature picture show…"

-"Science fiction-Double feature", Richard O' Brien


End file.
